


Martyr

by Orizuru



Series: Eve of Liberation [1]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Death Day, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orizuru/pseuds/Orizuru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the eve of liberation.</p>
<p>His blood practically sang with that knowledge as he tore through the streets, his baby handling the curves as best she could, the screech of tires breaking through the thoughts whirling about his head, consuming him just as thoroughly as the memories had back when his bed was small and cold and lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martyr

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clear_sight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clear_sight/gifts).



> This was originally posted at mangabullet on Matt and Mello's canon death day. This was intended to be read with its companion piece, Beloved.

It was the eve of liberation.

  
His blood practically sang with that knowledge as he tore through the streets, his baby handling the curves as best she could, the screech of tires breaking through the thoughts whirling about his head, consuming him just as thoroughly as the memories had back when his bed was small and cold and lonely.  
Back to the nights when the pain was overwhelming because the audio kept playing until it festered in his brain, the video feed caught in an endless grainy loop and. . . and it all had ceased to matter when warm little fingers curled around his hand and tugged him back to where he belonged. Encompassed by his friend’s arms and his love and his need for someone to give their everything to one who had nothing anymore.

  
Nothing but red beads and old eyes and a fire that would burn through everything until it sputtered and wore itself out. Beaten down by ranks and impossibilities, desire and life – but not by him. Not by the one scrap of peace in the turbulence of Mello’s life that was Matt. Just Matt. Matt who held on and would only let go so that Mello would have someone waiting for him at the end.

  
Matt knew. Stepping into this car, lighter bursting to life, nicotine filling his lungs, the exhaust smoke of Mello’s bike curling in the air, through all of that, he knew. He was going to die for Mello just as surely as he’d breathed for Mello. Breathed and fought and held on and cried and anything else that Mello couldn’t. It was only right. Maybe the only right thing in his life. Or Mello’s. Or in the whole damn world, ruled by fear and sin, overshadowed by a false god. The world he only hung onto because Mello was there and the one he’d let slip away once Mello had earned his right to move on to the paradise that lay after.

  
Because Matt had already gotten his own paradise, right here on earth. And maybe he had mistaken the sins of the flesh for salvation, sweet in his mind but bitter going down, but it didn’t matter, because it was the best damn thing he’d ever had. He’d gladly do it all again, given the chance. Just to bask in the glory of being needed by the only person he’d ever wanted or loved.

  
So he pressed down on that pedal, urging his baby on like maybe they could _fly_ if they just tried hard enough.

  
Only to have their wings clipped by a circle of machines and firearms and absolute certainty.

  
This was all that was left.

  
So Matt stepped out of his car, arms raised high and hope raised higher that he’d done enough for Mello. Finally given enough, given the very last thing he had of his own. Offered it up to those that didn’t know what they were doing. Couldn’t ever know what their bullets meant as they ripped through cloth and flesh and bone and metal, shards of grace delivering him from that which meant nothing.

  
Matt stood there as long as he could, until the pain took over and his heart slowed and he slumped to the ground in absolute ecstasy. Because it was over. He was done. He’d pushed through everything, the agony and the memories and the brief, searing moments of happiness. Just to come out on the other side, looking back, seeing that still –still- the only thing that mattered was Mello. And as he leaned against the thrashed metal, he breathed once more. Long, and heavy. And finally just. . . let go.


End file.
